March 25, 2016

Lyrics

Hey, Mr. Chips
How's the wife?
And are the kids still poison?
Do you still eat them?

Been under the gun
Running the guns
Say how'd this world get so fucking fun
All of a sudden?
All of a sudden?

Here's a quarter for the phone
Why don't you call someone
And find out how it is we can all belong
To something that no one
Wants any part of
One day you'll wake up
And there'll be

Advertising on police cars
And your death will sell you out as someone smart
Somewhat smart
Baby don't get out out of bed
Just lay back down your pretty head
They're advertising on police cars
Police cars
Police cars

Hey, Mr. Chips
Had me a notion
Like a burning sky dropped to the ocean
A bitter pill, is it better still?
To lay undone your guts for show?
To reconstruct some of your bones?
To turn it up?
When it calls to you will you wake up?

They're advertising on police cars
Your death will sell you out as someone smart
Somewhat smart
Baby don't get out of bed
Just lay back down your pretty head
They're advertising on police cars
Police cars
Police cars

Oh, Oh

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